The last few weeks have been full of quintessential summer activities: canoe camping, slacklining, beer drinking, and vegetable gardening. So when we decided to head to Portland for some city-style partying and ski the north side of Hood on the way back home, the idea seemed like a good one. The north side of Hood is an outstanding place to spend a warm summer day!
Eliot glacier
We arrived at Cloud Cap around 9:30 PM on Saturday night and were in our truck camper sleeping by 10:30. We were up at 4:30 AM, took care of business, and were hiking up the Timberline trail by 5:30.
Pre-dawn starts are never easy...
Topping out on the Eliot glacier moraine for dawn views of Mt. Hood can’t be beat.
On the Eliot glacier moraine at sunrise
We cruised up the moraine, then traversed over to the rock shelter, which we reached around 7:30.
Mt. Hood's rock shelter. Air guitar mandatory.
Did I mention that the entire lower mountain is in bloom right now? Wow.
From the rock shelter, we made our way up toward the Cooper Spur. Erik booted straight up some patchy snow (he was in ski boots), I followed the faint trail along the edge of the moraine (I was in approach shoes). We seemed to make similar time, except I had drool-worthy views of the Eliot glacier icefall all the way up!
Glacial gnar!
Along the way, we noticed two black specks moving toward the summit. At around 8:30, they started their descent. I yelled over to Erik, “check it out, I think those two climbers are skiers!” They were indeed, and we got to watch their solid ski descent off the summit. Rad!
We crossed paths with the two skiers at their bivouac site at around 8,500 feet. Turns out one of them was a Mt. Hood climbing ranger and had met some friends of ours during the Mt. Hood leg of their Cascade Challenge a few weeks prior. Gotta love our tiny Oregon backcountry ski community...
The Cooper Spur climbing (and skiing!) route
Finally at around 8,700 feet or so the snow on the ridge was continuous and it was time to put on my ski boots. We continued to walk up the ridge, as it never made sense to put on skins. In fact, we didn’t use our skins at all that day. Made for a slow ascent for sure.
Once we were about 6 hours in and about 4,000 vertical feet up, my legs had turned to complete Jell-O. After falling in the bootpack twice, I decided to call it my high point at around 9,300 feet. Have I mentioned my recent fascination with hammocks? Erik continued up the boot pack for another 20 minutes, to about 10,000 feet.
Erik in the boot pack
The ski down was fun, but pretty mellow. We considered skiing left and down onto Eliot glacier, but it didn't look like we'd get much vert before we were back on the rocks. Granted, those few turns would have been nice and steep, and with a fun berschrund crossing.
We ended up skiing to our right and onto the Newton Clark glacier. Picking a line between an open crevasse and a rock wall is always fun! We got around a 2,000 vertical foot descent. Most of it was very nice corn snow, which eventually transitioned into a runnelled nightmare. Jibbing off runnels is pretty challenging when you have Jell-O legs!
Avoiding a crevasse off to my right... sweet turns on Newton Clark glacier
We followed the Timberline trail back to the rock shelter, then back down the moraine to Cloud Cap. The maze of trails up there gets a little confusing, and neither of us wanted to end up at Tilly Jane rather than Cloud Cap.
From our walk down the Timberline Trail... Mt. Adams in the distance
It's usually rather entertaining to hike down a trail covered in dirt and rocks after a day of summer skiing. I've been asked lots of funny questions about my skis by bewildered hikers and sightseers on a variety of mountains. On this day however, the trails were full of savvy people generally asking after the quality of the snow and our turns. Awesome.
I hope to get back out there this summer, as Snowdome looks to be in great shape! The road to Cloud Cap is finally open, the crevasses on Eliot are open as well, and there is sweet, sweet corn to be had hopefully until the snow starts flying again!
Erik has been spending quite a bit of time out at Broken Top this season, and is well on his way to climbing and skiing every viable ski line on the mountain. He'd had his eye on a particular line that seemed "in" this season... not really a couloir, this particular ski line was just a skinny ramp of snow wedged between two huge, intersecting cliffs. He really wanted to ski it, and we agreed that this year's epic La Nina season may be the last time in a while that it was even a possibility.
Broken Top from the wilderness boundary
We skinned across the meadow, over the moraine, and into the bowl on a sunny morning. Rounding the corner toward 9:00 couloir, I was rather unclear about the objective. "You want to ski that?" I asked, "because if so, you're on your own. I'll just stand here and watch." The line looked really steep, really narrow, rather exposed, and the snow didn't look friendly at all. Not my idea of a fun line. Of course, Erik loves this kind of stuff and soon was on his way up the snow cliff.
Erik booting up 8:00 snow cliff
After about 40 minutes, he reached his high point in a moat near the top of the line. At the very top hung a giant cornice, not exactly something you'd want to climb up and over. After a gear transition in the moat, he was ready to drop in.
Erik negotiated the couloir with a variety of hop turns and a little sideslipping here and there. Everything was going great. Then, at one point, he made a turn, slid out, and started sliding right toward a cliff! Fortunately he stopped himself pretty quickly and made turns out of the couloir and down the apron intact.
As he skied down to me, I could tell he was totally hopped up on adrenaline: that amazing cocktail of fear plus accomplishment. These were the raddest ski tracks I'd seen laid down on Broken Top all season!
"I was puckered as fu%k!!"
With that ski line checked off his list, we agreed to cruise across the bowl to a more mellow line in the 1:00 area. Two skiers had already set a boot pack, so we used it about halfway up, then split off toward the right to access some steeper terrain.
Two skiers headed up for round two on 1:00 face
At our high point, we saw some other skiers down below who'd used the orignal boot pack to ski the more traditional 1:00 face.
Two skiers at the top of 1:00 face with Middle and North Sisters in the background
From the left: 8:00 snow cliff, 9:00 couloir, 11:00 couloir
Erik about to drop in to 1:00 face
We skied the 1:00 line, then booted back up again to ski another variation that led us past the bottom of 3:00 couloir and back out to the wilderness boundary.
Sawtooth Mountain Guides offers two ski mountaineering camps each year based out of the Williams Peak yurts in Idaho’s Sawtooth wilderness. Erik Schmidt and I joined five other campers from around the west (Ryan, Aaron, Curtis, Dave and Brent), as well as guides Kirk Bachman, Mike Hatch and Clark Corey, to climb and ski some sick couloirs in epic midwinter conditions.
Thompson peak from profile basin
Day 1: Erik and I attempt to locate the Sawtooth Mountain Guides office. How hard can it be to find an office in a town with a population of 100? As it turns out, not so easy. After a bit of searching, we found a lineup of five Subarus that suggested we were in the right spot. After introductions, an overview of recent weather and snow conditions, gear selections, and lunch preparations, we drove to the trailhead at the Stanley ranger station.
The skin out to the yurts via the Alpine Way trail took a few hours, and was really mellow. It had been a few months since I skinned with a heavy pack on, so I ended up chilling at the back of the line with Clark, who was pulling a sled full of gear. Our skin track chatter included stories about Clark’s trip to ski equatorial pow in Ecuador, and my summer of glacier skiing in Oregon and Washington.
That afternoon under cloudy skies Hatch led Erik, Ryan and I on a ski tour above the yurts to ski some really cold pow. I was actually quite shocked to feel the supremely cold face shots – colder than I’ve ever experienced. It was a pleasure to make turns with a crew of rippin’ skiers in such epic snow! This was shaping up to be a good trip.
Day 2 began with a tour plan, then we were out the door skinning up to skier’s summit. Kirk demonstrated anchor building using a tree, then belayed Hatch into the top of KB’s to ski cut the slope. Half of the crew skied KB’s, and the rest of us cruised over to the slightly less intimidating (and less rocky!) Beef Log.
KB's
Beef Log was an adventure! Clark dropped in first, making some big, ski cut/traverse-y turns to see what he could get to run. It looked like sluff was our only issue. After Kirk’s quick lecture on sluff management, Curtis dropped in like a ski racer after too many red bulls. He made a few turns charging fall line, then BAM! was knocked down by his sluff. Both skis released. One was found… and pretty soon we realized we had a situation on our hands.
One at a time the rest of us dropped in trying not to release too much more snow. We all spent at least an hour probing the debris pile looking for Curtis’ other ski. No dice. Eventually Kirk sent Aaron and I out with Clark to do a little more skiing and a little less practice on our switchbacks. Kirk ended up skiing back to Stanley to bring a new pair of skis up for Curtis. Thanks, Kirk!
Sluff on Beef Log
The three of us cruised over the high traverse and onto Peak 10,084 in almost whiteout conditions. We gained the ridge, dropped over to the other side and skied our first legitimate couloir of the trip: There and Back Again. Clark dropped in first, then Aaron, and finally me. I kicked off a little wind slab at the top, but it didn’t run very far and wasn’t too big of a deal. The turns were epic! Snow flying everywhere all the way down! 10 turns of absolute bliss. After meeting at the bottom of the couloir, we made giant powder turns through Lower Meadow, across the shoulder of Peak 10,084 and skinned back to the yurts for some much-deserved hors d’oveurs!
Our tracks on There and Back Again... RAD!
On day 3 we toured to profile basin for snow school. We learned techniques for boot packing and self arrest, including the use of an ice axe and crampons. It was impossible to find a fast, icy slope on which to practice, so we ended up on a 40 degree slope with fresh snow. Probably a good thing so I didn’t impale myself on an ice axe while arresting an upside-down, backward fall! Kirk’s lesson was informative and entertaining; clearly he was speaking from years of experience. Some favorites included advice on self arrest: “act like a cat on a hot tin roof!” and advice on stomping out a platform on a steep slope: “give yourself enough room so you can squat and take a shit!” Won’t be forgetting that advice anytime soon.
Skinning into profile basin for snow school
In the afternoon, we split into two groups to climb and ski What’s Up Doc. Kirk had joked earlier that morning that we should bring some carrots to leave at the top as an offering. Looking across the basin, I was wondering if I would become that carrot… The line was definitely intimidating, but I was up for the challenge.
I joined the group of three splitboarders (Clark, Dave and Brent), which was super entertaining! Hearing “GOD DAMN IT!!!” echo off the walls of the couloir while a certain member of our group was mid-switchback was pretty hilarious. Halfway up we transitioned to boot packing, which was a little hairball for me but seemed easy for the rest of the crew. An ice axe in my uphill hand and a Whippet pole in the downhill hand made me feel extra safe!
Booting up What's Up Doc
The scene at the top of the couloir was a little hectic: people peeing, taking photos, coordinating with photographers on the radio, queuing up to drop in… there was enough activity that I didn’t have the opportunity to think too much about the line I was about to ski, which was probably a good thing.
Pretty soon it was my turn to drop in. Had the Deadsy cover of Rush’s Tom Sawyer running through my head. Clark told me to take it easy and watch my sluff. Made a couple of turns as slowly as I could (no easy feat on DPS skis!), no sluff issues, but wow it was steep! Made a few more, stopped, everything was cool. Lined myself up to transition below some rocks to skier’s right of the couloir where there was fresh snow…. Made a big turn, let ‘em run a little, whoa I was going fast, freaked out, fell, kicked off a slab avalanche. Then I was down, tumbling, all I could see was white, snow was in my mouth, snapped into full survival mode. Got into my well-practiced “cat on a hot tin roof” position, jabbed the Whippet pole into the slope, and stopped my slide.
Both skis were still on my feet, but I lost one pole. Dug around a bit for it, but really I just wanted to get the hell out of there! So I stood back up and made some smooth pow turns down the steep apron to the sweet sound of cheering from the rest of the group. Sorry I erased your turns, Aaron!
Oops!
The last three people down were the spliboarders, who opted to ride the “Skinny Minnie” variation of the line with no tracks and a really tight choke. All three of them rode the line with style. Very nice, gentlemen!
Dave shredding What's Up Doc
After some traversing, some mellow turns, then some skinning back to the yurts, fiesta night was on! The Tecate and Jäger were flowing, along with spirited reliving of the day’s events and lots of other awesome stories about mountains and snow. A particularly fond memory is of Hatch describing his philosophy of ski mountaineering as “Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome” while gesturing wildly during the “Overcome” part. Good times indeed.
On day 4 we split into two groups again: one group headed back to profile basin to ski a sick couloir called Resurrection, while Hatch led Erik, Curtis, Kirk and myself on his classic tour, the “Peak 10,084 Reacharound”, with the goal of doing some rope work.
After skinning and bootpacking up to a ridge high on Peak 10,084 (which Kirk refers to as Peak 10,082 after he knocked a rock off the summit), we skied a giant cirque called Upper Meadow. With my previous two days of avalanche issues I was a little squirrely about skiing such a wide-open face. Kirk seemed to think everything was fine, so I dropped in for some nice powder turns without incident.
The transition from Upper to Lower Meadow involved a super steep slope that we sidestepped down on belay from Hatch, then transitioned to a hand line for the rest of the steep area, before dropping the rope and making some turns in the quickly softening snow. I had romanticized the experience of a free-hanging ski rappel, but it didn’t happen for me on this trip. Next time…
Sideslipping on a hand line
Once back at the yurt, we got a quick and dirty classroom session from Kirk on anchor building and ski belays in the warm sunshine. Before I knew it, we were all packed up and headed back down the trail, leaving the spectacular Sawtooths and fantastic yurt livin’ behind.
Arriving in the parking lot of the Ranger station, I felt relieved, sad, exhausted, and excited all at the same time. Relieved because I knew this trip was going to be an incredible challenge, and I was psyched that I was able to push my limits and succeed. Sad because such a fun and exciting weekend full of epic snow, amazing terrain and great people had come to an end. Exhausted because we were averaging over 3,000 vertical feet per day. Excited because I was leaving with a whole new bag of tricks and a totally different idea of what a ski line could be in the alpine.
Happy campers!
Thank you to Kirk, Hatch and Clark for giving me the opportunity to improve my ski mountaineering skills in such an ideal environment. Your backyard is spectacular! This was a trip I won’t soon forget.
